AllFreeNovel
Share Us
While at first glance it might seem that Jack was the most cryptic one out of the boys, in actuality, it was King.
Letting out a quiet sigh, I looked back at the bookshelf.
“Damnit, I forgot where I was…” I muttered under my breath. Deciding to just forget about it, I went ahead and picked a book at random. I curled up by the window and looked outside.
What was one more day spent like this, anyway?
* * *
The one thing I’d learned while living here was that the boys never brought their work home. There were no screams of pain and agony to be heard at night, no blood dirtying up the pristine floors, or underground basements hidden out of sight.
The only thing that might give someone pause was the big black briefcase that Ace oftentimes carried with him — and thatwas only if they were aware of what it contained on the inside.
It was impossible to suppress a grimace as I peeked over Ace’s shoulder.
“That’s… an interesting assortment you have in there.”
Or better said — a serial killer’s fucking wet dream.
I could see all sorts of equipment and tools — from knives and ropes to gags and syringes, and of course, that fucking electric prod.
“You should see what I have under my bed.” He winked at me, just in case the double entendre wasn’t obvious enough.
I picked up the prod, feeling the weight of it in my hands. “Even something like this?”
Ace shrugged his shoulders as if this conversation was completely normal to him. Then again, I didn’t know what he did in his spare time.
“Sure.”
Yeah, his response didn’t really surprise me. I knew that some people were into more… intense stuff than the usual missionary position, but after having an experience with this thing in my hands firsthand, I had to say that I couldn’t see the hype. If anything, even just holding it made me feel nervous.
“Why do people even want something like that, anyway? If you want to get electrocuted, just go stick your finger in a wall outlet or something.”
Ace chuckled, regarding me as if I had said something particularly amusing. “I’m certain that using a violet wand is much safer than sticking your finger in a power outlet.”
Same difference.
And while I wasn’t entirely sure what the previously aforementioned wand was, I didn’t think that I wanted to find out.
“Is that what you used on me? A violet wand?” I still couldn’t help myself but ask, the sense of curiosity winning over the apprehension I was feeling.
“No, that was something else. That instrument has a much higher voltage than a violet wand.”
Iahhedat his explanation and handed him the prod back. His fingers brushed against mine and the touch left a lingering warmth on my skin afterwards.
“And as for why someone would use something like that…” Ace tapped his chin for a moment. “Let’s just say that some people enjoy playing around with the different sensations. Have you ever rubbed ice cubes on your skin on a hot summer day? The feeling it produces is very similar.”
I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest. “I can tell you right now that it’s nowhere near as painful.”
I remembered very well just how painful it had felt. How I had red dots all over my body for weeks afterward, my skin irritated, as if I had a really bad sunburn that just wouldn’t heal.
“Using this doesn’t have to be too painful, either,” he said, glancing down at the instrument in his hand.
“You mean to tell me this torture stick with lightning bolts isn’t painful,” I said, doubtful.
“Not necessarily.”
I hummed, not entirely believing him, but deciding to leave it at that.
